


Fire, Fire

by Authoress



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Arson, Arson!AU, M/M, OOC for obvious reasons, Psychoteeth, Pyromania, i guess, someone is a little nuts, this might be part of a psychoteeth au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Blaine, it started with curiosity, and ended in horror and anxiety.</p><p>But all of that was before JJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire, Fire

**Author's Note:**

> i don't even know where this plot came from, but i'm glad it did

"No, no he's fine, not even that rattled from what I've seen...shock? No, I mean, the paramedics checked him out, said he was good to go--didn't even have to go to the hospital--so I don't really think he's in shock...you sure you don't want to talk to him? Yeah, he's staying at a hotel tonight; we'll talk to some of the guys tomorrow, see if we can't find someone to take him in for a while. Oh yeah, I mean, we all commute to the same workplace, it wouldn't be a problem. Mmhmm...thanks again for everything, sir, I'm sure he really appreciates all you've done...me too, me too. Oh, incoming call from my boss, gotta take it. Thank you again."  
  
Blaine shifts the cellphone tucked tightly between his shoulder and cheek down into his hands and switches over the call, smiling briefly at the young girl at the check in counter of the hotel before snatching up the keycard in his other hand and jogging towards the elevator. He takes a deep breath and prepares himself for the onslaught of questions. "Hey Burnie," he begins, shooting for a cautiously optimistic tone.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, no it's...he's okay! He's okay, I promise! We had the paramedics check him out even though he insisted he was fine. Yeah, doctor's approval and everything. No burns, no shock, concussion, anything; just a few scratches here and there, that's all...me too, Burnie, me too. He's staying at the Courtyard down a bit from the office for now. Barb? She went home already. After we got him a room. Actually, I'm surprised she didn't call you. Oh, she did? Then why ar...no, seriously, Burnie he's fine, I'm about to go check on him right now. Hmm. Yup. No...the guys there tried their hardest, I saw them, but there's just nothing left. They came too late to really salvage anything from the house. Next door got a little singed, but I think the firefighters got there in time. Really, it's a miracle no one got hurt...I don't know. I know a few of us have decent sized houses and could accommodate him. I think even my apartment's big enough. We'll figure something out...I'll see you tomorrow, Burnie, don't stress. Yeah, I'll drag him along if he's up for it. I'm not gonna let him mope in his hotel room all day. We really will take care of him, promise. Alright then. Night, Burnie."  
  
Dragging a hand through his hair, Blaine clicks the end call button and exhales loudly. The elevator pings and he steps in, feeling ages older. Two promises in the space of less than five minutes. Blaine hopes to god he can pull through and actually help his friend. He punches in the top floor and reads over the keycard absentmindedly. He's bouncing a little, the small motion betraying the anxiety that's occupying him. Admittedly, he's not sure what to do. He's trying not to freak out. And actually freaking out quite a bit.  
  
The problem is, JJ didn't react the way he had expected. Not that Blaine had ever in his wildest imagination considered JJ's fucking _apartment_ burning down. Blaine saw the goddamn smoke from where he was driving, and curious, he had wandered a little out of his way, but started panicking when the surroundings got familiar. By the time he was pulling into JJ's apartment complex parking lot, the firefighters were already on the job, and a perimeter was in place. That's when Barbara called him, half crying into the phone and directing him to her location. Blaine had practically sprinted to her, worried sick. She was pressed against the tape set up by the police and curled into herself, tears dripping gold down her face, reflecting the flames.  
  
Blaine had run up and hugged her tightly. She sniffled a little and he dared to ask, "JJ's?" Barbara breathed in and pointed a little shaky over towards the back of an ambulance, back doors thrown open, lights still spinning blindingly. Blaine's heart leapt into his throat, and all he could remember thinking was, no, oh god no, not JJ... but JJ wasn't lying out on a stretcher or hooked to a machine. Instead he was sitting on the back of the ambulance, wrapped in a blanket with paramedics fussing around him. Blaine felt all the adrenaline drain from his muscles in a rush and he exhaled heavily. But even though JJ seemed uninjured, he was staring intently at the blaze, a neutral, distant expression in his face. He didn't look upset, or angry, or lost, just...calm.  
  
And maybe that's what really got to Blaine the most. The fact that JJ could look so calm as his home and all his possessions disintegrated before his eyes, a single plastic bag tucked between his legs. It wasn't until later that Blaine realized all JJ owned now were the clothes on his back, whatever was left at the office, and the contents of that plastic bag. And that fact had Blaine wishing for a slew of shots to drown himself in and forget JJ's tragedy in the copious amount of alcohol.  
  
The only reason JJ was in this hotel and not down at the hospital was because Blaine had waved down a paramedic, one arm still around Barbara. She explained that she was the one JJ had called earlier, and the paramedic informed them that JJ was free to go if he felt up to it, but she'd prefer he have someone else drive him to a hotel. Blaine volunteered and Barbara agreed it was probably best for a guy to help settle JJ in, but would tag along regardless. They were escorted past the line to see JJ. When asked if he wanted to spend the night at the hospital or a hotel, JJ had responded, "Oh shit, hotel. I've had enough of all this crap, I'm fine." And for someone who no longer had an apartment, he did look fairly fine.  
  
But JJ didn't say a word on the drive other than "Courtyard's fine" and "thanks". And to Blaine, that was the true tell. Barbara had parted with them pretty quickly once they made sure JJ could get a room that night, and the next few, should that be necessary. She hugged JJ tightly and murmured something in his ear to which JJ only half-smiled and shrugged. Then he shot a glance and a nod Blaine's way and took off to his room, still not saying a word, while Blaine checked in with JJ's doctor, who had been given Blaine's contact information from the paramedic who had looked after JJ.  
  
Now, stepping out into the hallway and trotting over to JJ's room, Blaine was at a loss. He had a pretty solid hunch about what JJ would be getting up to, but he had no idea how to comfort the dude or ensure that he wasn't going to break down. Oh god, what if he started crying? Blaine could hardly deal with his family members crying, let alone his coworker and friend. Sucking in a breath, Blaine sent a silent prayer that he wouldn't fuck this up, and unlocked JJ's door, stepping in and closing the door quietly.  
  
As he had suspected, JJ had removed the contents of the plastic bag and discarded it into the trash. Blaine swallowed as he automatically glanced around to check for belongings and found none. The room looked pristine, in sharp contrast to JJ's ragged appearance. JJ himself was out on the balcony, already lit up and halfway through his first cigarette, leaning over the edge. He hadn't changed out of his clothes at all, although they probably smelled like burning and ash--in fact, Blaine could see a little grey ash powdered in a few spots on JJ's back and skinny jeans. Blaine shuffled towards his friend with caution, noting with slight alarm that JJ was wearing his shades, despite it already being past sundown. Thinking back to the possibility of tears, Blaine mirrored JJ's position, trying not to look like he was analyzing the guy from toe to head. JJ appeared to be staring out into the distance, eyes not alighting on any particular area of Austin.  
  
"You're not really supposed to be smoking, you know," Blaine blurted out in an attempt to start conversation. Feeling like a fool and receiving no visual or auditory response from JJ, Blaine tried to clarify, "I mean, you booked a nonsmoking r--"  
  
"I know what I booked, Blaine. I don't want to smell smoke in my room tonight when I'm not-sleeping, but I need a fucking smoke or I'm gonna lose it, got it?"  
  
Blaine felt his face immediately flush in horror. Of course JJ didn't want to stay in a smoking room after watching fire consume his apartment. Of course. Blaine was a dick.  
  
He was about to see himself out when JJ let out a long sigh and turned to face him. "Jesus, man, okay, I didn't mean to get all snappy. Sorry. You're only trying to help me; you've done nothing wrong. Sit your ass back down."  
  
Blinking a little, Blaine returned to leaning against the balcony, this time facing backwards so that he could look up. They stayed in companionable silence until JJ finished his first cigarette and lit another one. Blaine twitched. "Can I ask you something?"  
  
JJ met his eyes and shrugged. Blaine took that as a yes. "Aren't you...at _all_ bothered by that?" He asked, gesturing towards the cigarette tucked neatly in between JJ's fingers. Blaine's eyebrows pinched in concern. "Actually...don't you want to get out of your clothes? I'm sure they reek of...you know. I could lend you some stuff, it's no problem. My shirts are uh, pretty small anyway. Burnie just called me, and someone'll definitely take you in. This whole situation sucks, but it'll get better for sure--everyone'll pitch in. Is...is any of this helpful in the slightest, or am I just rambling?"  
  
JJ took another drag and made a thoughtful expression. Exhaling, he sighed, "Well, you are a bit of a talker. But listening to you puts me at ease a little. Hard to think about a personal disaster when a so-usually-composed dude like you is blabbering like a smitten twelve-year-old." Blaine relaxed a tad, rolling his eyes at JJ's slight. He missed his friend's wolfish grin, hidden behind a raised hand. "Besides, I had no idea you wanted me out of my clothes so bad. All you had to do was ask."  
  
Blaine huffed at JJ and crossed his arms, annoyed, but also aware that he totally walked into that one. "C'mon, I'm trying to be serious! I've got your back, and all that other gay shit." JJ's smile faltered a little and he scuffed a shoe against the concrete. His eyes fell to the side, but the look on his face was not a sad one. It was that same, eerie, calm countenance.  
  
"You don't need to worry about me Blaine. Fire cannot hurt me."  
  
Blaine paused. Blinked a few times. "What?"  
  
When JJ didn't respond, Blaine shifted his stance and turned his full attention on his friend. "What on earth are you talking about? You're lucky you didn't get any serious injury."  
  
JJ's smile returned at that, but with a sharper edge in the corner of his mouth and in the shine of his eyes. His gaze bored holes in the floor, but his voice was steady, almost emotionless. "Fire is my companion, after all. A constant, but unpredictable, companion. It won't hurt me." He snuffed out his cigarette blindly into the ashtray.  
  
Still thoroughly confused, Blaine straightened and uncrossed his arms. He took a breath, composed himself, still trying to speak in a normal tone. "JJ, are you even hearing yourself? You sound like a crazy person. You sure you didn't get knocked in the head or something?" Blaine felt his confusion grow into a creeping sense of unease, coupled with a burn of concern for JJ's health.  
  
JJ hauled himself into the edge of the balcony, light as a cat. His bangs flicked into his eyes, but the sharpness of their gaze was not dulled a hair as he met Blaine's eyes once again. His tone of voice was casual, the same as if they were brainstorming new recap ideas. He kicked his feet a little, looking far too comfortable for a man perched on an edge, five stories above solid concrete.   
  
"I was the one who set my apartment on fire.”

Blaine’s look of blank disbelief seemed to spurn on JJ. He huffed out a laugh and continued in an almost sing-song voice. “First, I thought of lighting something on fire with the stove or oven, but ugh, how tedious. In the end I just took a lighter to my curtains and bed sheets. I'll admit it--I was pretty scared. Small acts of arson are really nothing new to me--I've been doing that shit since my stubby fingers could light a match--but something of this scale was exciting and terrifying. What if I hit gas and my apartment exploded? What if my neighbors caught me? Even worse, what if the cops caught me? All of that would really suck.  
  
"But after I got past that fear, it was exhilarating. There's just something about watching fire eat up things that once mattered so much to you. Dresser, clothes, bed...no matter how much value you attached to your possessions, fire doesn't care. It just consumes, with no discrimination. Fire's awfully fair. It eats everything in its path, and what it can't eat, it scars permanently. Gotta have respect for that kind of power."  
  
Blaine is frozen--terror, horror, blankness...he has no idea what the acidic emotion flooding his veins is, but his adrenaline levels are spiking and he's about to make a run for it. JJ doesn't look like a victim--he looks like a predator, perched and prepared to strike. His dark coat, which in the day made him look so professional and attractive, now draped him in darkness. He was a reaper. JJ had morphed into a different person--one Blaine was not familiar with, and extremely threatened by. Where do they work, again? They’re colleagues— _friends_ —right? So when did they joke around and go out for drinks? Did any of the past few months happen? Where did that charismatic and cordial personality go? _What the **fuck**_ _happened to his JJ?_ Blaine wants to say something but his throat is choked. What the hell kind of person burns down their own home. What the hell kind of person puts on such a convincing facade.  
  
JJ cocks his head to the side and stops kicking his legs. He hops down from the balcony railing and moves towards Blaine, still light and silent, but all Blaine can think of is those same shoes padding around the delicate frame of a house crackling and disintegrating, set ablaze by the same one who approaches him now. His damn survival instincts finally kick in and he takes a faltering step back.  
  
JJ does not pursue. He looks a little sad but gives a nod of understanding, and suddenly the old JJ is back. "You think I'm absolutely batshit insane," he murmurs. His shrug is small. "I used to think that to. My mom always put matches and lighters out of my reach, but I found a way. Many ways. Hard to keep a kid away from his obsession, after all. I didn't understand. No one would explain my fascination to me. No one shared in it, either. I was strange, and it frightened me." He leaned on the sliding door. "So I set out rules for myself. No fires where others could see. Know when too much burning was too much. No killing of animals, god, that was the most important part. I never wanted to hurt anyone, or anything--still don't want to. I found my boundaries. I got plenty of burns learning to respect those boundaries. Then, film found me. Shooting the recaps...editing shit, all that stuff we do at Rooster Teeth, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Not even my pyro habits could overwhelm that love. So, I took up smoking as a compromise and said goodbye to my old way of life."  
  
He glanced back up at Blaine, who was still alarmed, but less inclined to bolt for the hills. JJ raked a hand through his hair and huffed out a sigh. He dared to step closer to Blaine and the other man let him. JJ tentatively rested a hand on Blaine's shoulder, wincing at the flinch he felt. They stood in silence for a few breaths, Blaine searching JJ for answers, and JJ, retaining his poker face. JJ laughed sharply, tongue flicking over his lips.  
  
"You know, I was really fucking good at holding in the impulse. I could resist pretty goddamn well. And, really, people change. We move on and grow up and out of our old habits." His grip tightened on Blaine's shoulder and he invaded his space, mouth at his ear, cheek to cheek, voice darker than pitch.  When he spoke, his lips brushed Blaine's ear.

 "But I'm not one of those people."   
  
"The fires on my curtains and bed sheets weren't large enough, fast enough, god, it was so _boring_. I emptied gasoline cans everywhere. I wanted to save those cans for a day when I really couldn't control myself but ugh, I needed something tangible then, right _then_. Not gonna lie, I went apeshit lighting the gas--thought my apartment was gonna fucking explode--but god, the _fire._ It was everywhere. I was covered in a sheen of sweat within seconds. My whole world clicked into place in that moment, watching all that I ever owned go up in flames. Fuck Rooster Teeth and fuck Jose Jones Films. I was going to let myself burn, Blaine, I was going to let the fire consume me."  
  
He stepped back, knife sharp smile back in place. JJ turned on his heel, stalked over to the bed and flopped back down onto the mattress with a small _oof_. He blew a strand of hair out of his face. "Ugh, where's the fun in dying, though? One damn blaze and then I snuff out my own candle? Laaaammeee. So, I hopped out of my apartment, grabbed a bag of smokes, made it look like it was an accident. Poor little JJ, coming home from the supermarket and bam! Apartment in flames. Didn't want to drag Barb into this, but whatever, had to. Paramedics and their procedures and regulations and junk, blah blah _blaaahhh_.”

“You were a surprise, though."  
  
JJ sits up in his forearms, gaze fixed on Blaine, soft and contemplative. "I got awful fond of you, you know. Glad you got the job--you're perfect for Rooster Teeth. To be honest, I'll miss you the most." With that ambiguous statement hanging in the air, JJ jumped up and jogged past Blaine to the bathroom, where he proceeded to inspect his appearance while Blaine sputtered.  
  
"Miss me? What the fuck are you talking about? You haven't explained anything, I'm still so lost. Are you leaving, is that you’re insinuating? You've got _nothing_ now, where are you planning on going? More importantly, how could you be so stupid as to set your own apartment on fire?" JJ flashes him a smirk in the mirror.  
  
"Don't worry, man, all the cameras and equipment and junk are safe at the office. And I've got copies of copies of copies on the computers there, too. All the stuff we shot isn't lost. Probably won't be very hard to get a replacement for me--I'm sure there's a ton of bloodthirsty interns and employees vying for my spot. Hey, maybe even you have a shot, who knows?" He nodded, satisfied, at the mirror and brushed past Blaine yet again, snatching up his keycard and making as if to leave. Blaine grabbed his upper arm firmly.  
  
"Just where do you think you're going? Explain yourself, for fuck's sake." JJ's turn to sit his ass back down. The man complied with little resistance, appearing vaguely amused.  
  
"Have I been unclear about something, Blaine? I'm a pyromaniac and an arsonist. I tried to stop once, but it's clear I can't, and I no longer intend to try and stop myself. Arson is my calling, dude, and I'm leaving tonight before the cops figure out there was no goddamn accident. If Burnie asks, say I went home to my family. Or tell him the truth--but I'll deny everything until the day I die. Savvy? You don't want to be hanging around a crazy person any more than what is safe, I presume."  
  
"You presume wrong," Blaine snaps, running a hand through his hair, this time. "Just--just give me a second to process this before you disappear forever." He began to pace a little, trying as hard as he could to breathe evenly, while JJ patiently and obediently watched him from the bed. So Blaine's best friend at the office was a pyromaniac. And a criminal. That was...that really fucking sucked. Did it have to be fucking _arson_? Did it have to be _JJ_?  
  
But this was still the JJ who had taken him in, showed him the ropes. The JJ who he had drinks with and shared dumb jokes with. The same JJ who would jog around the company building asking, "Where's my intern? Seen my intern?" The same charismatic and talented dude he had been happy to work under and now work with. This obsession couldn't define him. There was more to JJ then the urge to set fire to everything he sets eyes on.  
  
Blaine whipped around and prodded JJ in the chest with his pointer finger. "All that stuff we did together, all the good times we had...was that just a role you played? Was ‘JJ the neat filmmaker and editor’ just another lie that you used to hide your 'big secret'?"  
  
JJ pursed his lips and didn't meet Blaine's eyes. He made as if to start a sentence, then thought better of it and locked his jaw. Blaine growled, feral and frustrated, deep down in his throat. "JJ, I swear to fucking Christ almighty, you will answer me." JJ did look up at that, but could not hold Blaine's gaze. Blaine prodded him again, enough to bruise, and JJ caved.  
  
"No, I...of course it was real, Blaine. I told you, I love my job. I love my colleagues. All that awesome and stupid shit we did? That was great. I'll never forget it. But I can't just lock away a part of myself that refuses to be ignored." JJ's eyes bored into Blaine's. "I could kill someone, Blaine. I could trap them in a building I burnt to the ground, and honestly? I probably wouldn't give a shit. Fire messes with my mind. I can't stay here. I can't know what I might do."  
  
Blaine smiles crookedly. “But that’s not all you are, is it now? There’s more to you than an obsession. And all those things you’re afraid of doing…well, you have an intern now, right? I mean, not really your intern anymore, but I'm a confidante. Someone you can let go with. Someone who won't rat you out, but someone who'll also pull you back when you're too close to the edge. You don't even have a goddamn home now, just move in with me, we can figure something out."  
  
JJ barks out a laugh. "You don't know what you're getting into, Gibson."  
  
Blaine shrugs. "Not gonna refute that. But I'm the only other choice you've got, aside from the shitty choice of running away from the problem."  
  
JJ eyes him carefully, considering. He stands up, tilting his head back to examine Blaine. "You might actually be serious about this," he murmurs. "I totally scored," he adds quietly, even though Blaine can absolutely hear him. Then the wolf smile is back, like flipping a switch and his voice drops a few octaves. "One thing you got wrong though, babe--it's not a problem, it's a way of life."  
  
He presses a long kiss to Blaine's jaw, right below his ear, where he had pulled close earlier. It's torturously hot, and Blaine's skin remembers the feel of his mouth, burned into him like a brand, even as JJ skips by and opens the hotel door. The other man steps out and peeks back in to where Blaine stands stiff, coy expression and a hand tucked in his pocket, dragging his jeans just a little lower than is strictly necessary. "Get a move on, fire boy," JJ purrs. "Let's see you match my pace."  
  
And then he's gone around the door, down the hall to the elevator, and when Blaine actually gets his shit together, JJ'll be leaning against Blaine’s car like he owns the damn thing, smooth and sensual, with some snarky comment on his tongue because he's got this quick-witted side to him Blaine has just scratched the surface of. Perhaps the fact that the curve of JJ's legs and ass in his too fucking tight skinny jeans had burned itself into Blaine's memory should serve as some kind of warning that he was in way, way too deep. Blaine might not actually _have_ any idea what he was getting into. But he sure as hell was going to give it a shot.

**Author's Note:**

> will there be more? will authoress write the rest of the au? we just don't know


End file.
